


Broken Brooklyn Babies

by WintersRomanianPrince



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Hipster Steve Rogers, M/M, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Punk Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2019-04-03
Packaged: 2019-09-28 07:10:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17178266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WintersRomanianPrince/pseuds/WintersRomanianPrince
Summary: Punk!Bucky x Hipster!Steve au no one asked for.I will try to actually description another day-





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not very experienced with writing, this is terrible and I'm so sorry for what I've started. Forgive my sins.

"James, are ya almost done in here?" A quiet voice chirped up from behind him. The brunette turned to his little sister, Rebecca, who was standing in his doorway.

"Yeah, just about done." He answered, turning back around and closing up the box in front of him.

Rebecca walked in, plopping down onto her brother's bed, that was now stripped of the sheets. She kept her head down, usual smile nowhere to be found, as her legs swung back and forth. He quickly took notice of the younger's expression and walked over to her.

"You okay, Becca?" He asked as he sat down, putting an arm around her tiny frame.

She nodded silently, wrapping her small arms as best she could around his torso.

They stayed like, silence filling the room, Rebecca's grip tight around her brother, until the older spoke up again.

"You got all your stuff packed?" Another silent nod came from Rebecca.

"Well," he sighed, "let's go finish putting everything in the car, m'kay?"

* * *

 

That was six years ago; when the two had moved in with their grandparents after the passing of their mother. Two years after that, though, their grandfather had also passed.

Rebecca had been sent to boarding school after that, as their grandmother wasn't fit nor had the money to care for a child, and James- Bucky as he went by now- stayed to live with and also help care for their grandmother.

Now though, Bucky was 20 and living alone in an apartment in Brooklyn. He had just barely finished school with nearly passing in almost every class. When everything happened his grades had decreased immensely.

Bucky had changed a lot in those last few years, both mentally and physically.

Dark brown hair that used to be short and slicked back now shaved on the right side and at shoulder length. His clear skin now covered in ink and scars. Hell, he didn't even have his left arm anymore. The lost limb was now replaced with a metal prosthetic, with a beat up red star he painted on the shoulder- that's a story for another day, however.

Dress shoes replaced by combat boots, jeans now tight, black, and ripped. Band tees taking the place of his old, classy button-ups. He'd even got some piercings, thanks to Nat's convincing.

Well....maybe some is an understatement.

Bucky had a double-septum piercing, both lobes [and upper lobes], two cartilage on both sides. Recently he had added an orbital on the left ear along with an industrial, snake bites on his bottom lip, and a brow piercing.

Bascially the exact opposite of the prim and proper look he used to have.

Now mentally, Bucky was a mess if he was being honest.

He used to love going out, always had girls all over him, too. Nowadays he's always too depressed or anxious to even think about going out. Only reason he really went anywhere was when his friends, Clint and Natasha, would drag him out.

Used to, he loved having the attention of every dame; now it put him on edge, made a feeling of anxiety settle within him, which he desperately tried to hide in pubilc.

Honestly, could you blame the guy for being so down, though? He lost a lot over the last few years. At least he didn't lose his friends. Bucky was extremely greatful to still have them, even if it was only two people. Speaking of which, let's see what they're up to.

* * *

 

"Barnes, wake your ass up!" Nat yelled from the driver seat, causing a sleeping Bucky to jerk awake and bang his head on the roof of the tiny car.

He let out a groan, rubbing his head, sending the red-head a tired glare. "What the hell, Nat?!"

"What? Had to wake you up, we're here." She deadpanned, pocketing her keys and stepping out.

"Could've done it a bit subtler." The brunet grumbled, stepping out the car.

The two walked into the all too familiar shop and sat down on the small sofa, waiting for their appointments.

"So, what are you getting, James?" Natasha asked as they sat.

The brunette rolled his eyes. "Nat, I told you I'm not saying."

"Is it gonna be on yout dick?" She asked in monotone, completely serious.

"Wha- No! What the fuck, why is that your guess?!"

"Just seems like the thing you wouldn't tell me you're doing." She shrugged.

"I mean yeah I wouldn't tell ya that, but it ain't what I'm doing."

"Then what is it??" The red-head asked again.

Right then, a familiar voice called Bucky's name, telling him it was his turn.

"Well," he said, standing up, "you'll find out soon enough. See ya in a bit, Nat." Bucky shot her a quick grin before walking off.

"What's up, Barton?" Bucky greeted, walking up to his friend.

"Nothing much." He replied. "So, what're you getting today again?"

"Thinking 'bout tongue piercing; 14 gauge, 16 milimeter."

"Oh, I get to do something besides your ears this time?! Thought this day would never come." Clint said being overdramatic, before letting out a quiet laugh.

"Oh, shut it." Bucky rolled his eyes, smile tugging at his lips.

"You think it'd look good, though?"

"Yeah, actually. I'm surprised you haven't gotten one yet."

"Well, you guys are expensive as Hell," he replied, "and I don't have a ton of money to blow whenever."

"Fair enough." Clint nodded. "Alright now let's get started."

* * *

 

"Okay so, now that it's done I have to tell you how to care for it till it's healed up." Clint said, cleaning up his station. Bucky nodded silently, tongue swelling too much to talk properly.

"You're gonna need to clean it about five to six times a day, thirty seconds each time. But no more than that or it will cause discoloration. If you want to minimalize swelling you can suck on icecubes, keep food and drinks on the cooler side, and don't talk." Clint continued. "Not that you talk much anyways." He added causing Bucky to send him a playful glare.

The brunette stood up and walked with Clint back to the front of the shop and to the register.

The other rung up the cleaning solution, paying for it himself, and bagging it up before handing it to Bucky.

The taller took the bag and signed a "thank you" with his hands to the blonde.

"No problem, dude." He smiled before walking off to do his next appointment.

Bucky walked over to the couch and sat down till Natasha came back.

"Why did I let you talk me into this, my ear is killing me!" She whined when she finally got back.

Bucky just shrugged, looking at her new cartilage piercing.

Natasha sat down and her eyes skimmed over the other's face. Not finding any new piercings, she gave him a confused look. "I thought you were getting a new one?"

A smirk creeped onto Bucky's face before he opened his mouth and stuck his tongue out.

Nat gasped, staring at it. "Oh, my god, I didn't think you'd ever get one!" She screamed gaining the attention of a few people around them.

'Hurts like Hell' Bucky signed at her.

Natasha let out a laugh before asking, "You want a slushie to help with the swelling?"

He gave a nod and they both stood up, walking out the parlor.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve's introduction into the story?-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More garbage bc im terrible at starting stories-
> 
> Might have the boys meet in the next chapter or so.

"You find a pair yet, Cinderella?"

Steve turned away from the mirror, looking up at his friend, Sam.

"I told you to stop calling me that," He groaned, rolling his eyes. "Anyways, what d'ya think of these ones?" The smaller of the two asked, adjusting the glasses currently on his face.

"I think they match your hipster look perfectly," Sam replied with a tiny grin.

Steve immediately shot him a glare. "I ain't a damn hipster!" He shouted, gaining the attention of the other patrons in the shop.

"Yeah, you're  _totally_  not one at all." Sam said with an eye roll.

It was true; Steve didn't try to look like hipster, he just kind of had to.

He was basically an accidental hipster.

The guy always has to wear suspenders for his jeans to stay up properly; and since he was so tiny he would wear skinny fit, they just fit better. He always had on beanies and cardigans and gloves because his awful circulation made him cold easily. His immune system was equally as shitty so they were also to keep him from getting sick. Steve's eyesight wasn't too good either so he actually does need glasses, they aren't just for the trend.

He even had one of those messenger bags [which was given as a joke]. Despite how much Steve wanted to hate it, he couldn't; it was extremely useful. The bag had plenty of space to carry his inhaler, emergency meds, and minimal art supplies for when he got bored or anxious.

It's reasons like this that Steve gets so upset when being called a typical hipster.

It's not that he likes or wants to look this way, it's that he  _has to_.

When Steve was a young kid he'd get teased all the time for how he had to dress.

Always having to wear suspenders, his body being too dainty for the clothes to fit after years of health issues. The blond was pretty much the only kid who had to wear winter clothes all year round, including the scorching hot summers. Fuck, he was even teased when he first got prescribed glasses.

Now, years later at the age of 19, and he's still forced to do the same things.

Still living with the same medical problems; bad asthma, circulation just as horrible as then, immune system still shit, eyes even worse [from refusing to wear glasses earlier in life], the list of problems goes on. And on top of all his own medical problems, he also now had his mother's to worry about as well.

Steve looked at himself with the glasses one more time before turning back to his friend and giving him a small nod.

Steve took the black framed glasses off and strolled to one of the worker's desks to discuss which pair he decided on. After filling out a few papers and paying for the frames, he thanked the worker before he and Sam walked out the shop.

"So, where to now, shortstack?" Sam said as he swung his arm around the other's shoulders.

"Ya still fine with making a quick stop at the hospital?" Steve asked, pushing his hands in the pockets of his black cardigan.

"Yeah, of course I am. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Don't know, just make ya go a lot is all," The blond shrugged. "Didn't know if it was getting annoying."

"Nah, it's fine," Sam replied as they walked. "Besides if I wasn't here you'd already have gotten your ass beat by now." He added with a quiet chuckle.

A pout formed as Steve grumbled something along the lines of "they would be the one getting their ass kicked" and continued down the sidewalk with his friend.

* * *

The two walked inside the hospital, greeting the familiar nurses as they went. Stepping into the same elevator they used almost everyday, Steve pressed the '4' button. Once they reached the designated floor and the metal doors opened the two stepped out and walked down the hall, careful to not get in the way of anyone working.

"Want me to go in or wait out here?" Sam questioned as they walked.

After thinking for a long moment Steve replied with a quiet "I'll go in alone." Sam gave a silent nod as they continued down the hall.

Once finding the all too familiar room, Steve gave a quick knock before walking in.

"Hey Ma, you awake?" He asked, slowly opening the door and stepping inside.

"Hey, Steven." She greeted with a tired smile, sitting up on the white mattress.

"How're ya doin'?" Steve asked, carefully wrapping his arms around his mother.

She returned the gesture as she spoke, "I'm okay, how about you, sweetheart?"

"I'm okay." He replied, moving to sit in one of the guest chairs next to his mother's bed.

"That's good to hear," she nodded, still smiling as she leant back to her previous position on the bed. "How about your friend? How's he doing?"

"Sam? He's doing good. We actually just went for my eye appointment," Steve informed his mother.

Steve had continued talking with his mother for another good half hour.

They talked about all things ranging from Steve's health to his recent drawings to the annoying names Sam calls him. It was nice; talking to his mother like this, enjoying her little smiles and laughs she let out. He wanted to burn that happy look of hers into his memories, knowing he won't see it after much longer. As joyful as she looked right now, Steve knew that it didn't change anything; didn't change the fact that there was only so much the doctors could do for so long.

In the middle of Steve's sentence there was suddenly a knock at the door. It opened slowly and a nurse popped her head in.

"I'm sorry, but visiting hours are almost up, Sir." She informed them.

"Welp," Steve sighed, "guess I gotta go then." He stood up and gave her a hug, saying a quick 'love ya' as he pulled away. Grabbing his bag, he walked out the room and found Sam sat in a nearby waiting room.

"Get your ass up, we gotta go." Steve said as he walked up to the taller man.

"Hello to you, too, then." Sam mumbled as he stood up, stretching his limbs. "How's she doing today?" He questioned as they began walking.

"Better than yesterday, I guess," Steve replied with a shrug. "Not that it really means anything." He added, a sad tone lacing the words.

A small frown made it's way onto Sam's face as he wrapped a comforting arm around Steve as they walked.

* * *

"Fuckin' finally we're home!" Steve shouted as he walked into his and Sam's shared apartment.

"You act like we were gone that long." Sam mumbled as he tossed his keys on the coffee table.

"Well, for some of us walking everywhere is difficult."

"Oh yeah, your lungs are broken. My bad." Sam replied.

"THEY AREN'T BROKEN, ASSHOLE!" The shorter man yelled.

"Don't get too worked up or you'll run out of breath sooner." Sam grinned.

Steve was about to shout at his roommate, but was interrupted by a phone ringing.

Sam quickly pulled the device out his pocket and answered it, holding it up to his ear.

Steve stood there, waiting for the call to end so he could yell at the other. Unfortunately, when it did end Sam had pocketed his phone once again and made his way to grab his keys.

"Where you off to?" Steve asked him curiously.

"Gotta go help down at the center, I'll be back in a bit." He answered before making his way out the apartment.

Steve huffed and flopped onto the couch, frown adorning his face.

The blond sat there a while, trying to get those stupid words to leave his head.

_'Your lungs are broken.'_

He doesn't know why it was getting to him, he knows Sam was kidding. Knows he'd never mean something like that. 

His lungs aren't  _broken_.

None of his body is  _broken_.

_He wasn't broken._


	3. Chapter Three

Steve was sat on his bed finishing a sketch, pencils and crumpled up papers scattered around the mattress and floor alike. The blonde picked up a blending stump and began to carefully blend the shadings already laid on the page, making them look much smoother. He was cautious not to let his hand slide against the granite, not wanting to smear and ruin the drawing; there were enough failed attempts littering his bedroom floor.

His hand came to a hault, however, when the front door opening caught his attention. Steve placed the sketchpad on the duvet, moving his pencils and shading stumps to sit next to it, before standing up. He opened his door and walked down the hall and to tbe living room where he was met with Sam emptying his pockets onto the coffee table.

"Hey, what took so long? Normally you ain't gone more than 2 hours." Steve said as he stepped into the room.

"There was a new guy," Sam informed him, "had to get all his information and set up appointments, but the the computers fucked up so we had to get them running first."

Steve nodded silently before going over and sitting next to his friend. "So, new guy; what's his deal? If I'm allowed to ask."

The taller man let out a chuckle, leaning back on the sofa. "Retired Vet, served in the Marines. Real nice guy honestly, seemed a little uneasy about starting therapy though."

"Aren't they always uneasy about that?" Steve questioned.

"Well, yeah, wouldn't you be? You come back from war with all these problems and you gotta tell them to some random guy." Sam told him. "He looked like he relaxed a little after finding out I also served, though."

They continued talking about different people around the clinic Sam worked at. His was specifically to help those coming back from the Navy, Army, Marines, etc. They offered to work with them on medical problems/expenses and offered therapy; both physical and psychological. Sam worked in the psychological side, mainly with those suffering from PTSD. He had been in the Army not too long ago, but after losing a friend he served with he had to leave; it was just too much for him mentally. Sam came back a mess- but who wouldn't after losing their friend that way? Now, however, he was doing better; which made him want to help others going through what he did or things similar to it.

After a while of chatting Sam suddenly took a long glance at Steve's hand, noticing some grey smudging across the side.

"What's all over your hand?" He asked, causing the smaller man to look his hands over, also noting the grey smudges.

"Aw shit," he mumbled, more to himself if anything, "I was drawing while you were gone, didn't even notice that happened." He said as he tried to rub it off on his black jeans.

Sam nodded before standing up, quickly popping his back and stretching his limbs. "Just make sure you wash it off, 'kay? Don't want you getting a stain on something." He began walking off, heading down the hall as he mumbled, "Night, I'm heading off to bed, shortie." Steve slowly stood up, glaring as his friend made his way down the hall, before he himself walked through and back into his room. Quickly, he grabbed his art supplies and put everything back in it's cases and holders, setting it all on his nighstand along with his now shut sketchbook.

Steve padded over to his dresser and dug around till finding some random old t-shirt. He slipped off his current jeans and shirt, tossing them in the hamper near his closet, before pulling on the other shirt, the fabric hanging low and loose on his tiny stature. Turning off the room light, he went back to his bed, stopping to flick on the fairy lights strung around before sliding under the warm sheets, waiting for sleep to overcome him.

* * *

 

"You're sure you don't want me to hang out for a little bit? Give you some company?" Nat asked for what was probably the twelfth time.

"Nat, I really just want to get some sleep, yeah?" Bucky told the red-head once again as they walked to his apartment. He could actually speak properly, his tongue now back to it's original size and not throbbing in his mouth like it was a week ago.

Bucky knew she was just trying to be a good friend, maks sure he wasn't feeling too lonely, but in all honesty he didn't want to be around people right now; he'd had enough interaction for one day.

"Alright, if you say so," She sighed, stopping in front of the apartment door, "but if you need anything just text me or Clint, alright?"

"I got it, mom. Can you go so I can sleep, now?" He asked with an eyeroll.

Natasha gave the brunet a small jab in the side with her elbow, a faint smile on her face. "Fine, I'll get out of your hair. See you later, James." The two shared a quick hug before Natasha walked off as Bucky unlocked the door. He stepped inside, immediately locking the door, before walking over to the kitchen to find a snack.

After digging around for what felt like ages, Bucky just decided to eat a little extra in the morning; Nat had brought him for food a few hours ago, he'd be fine without dinner.

Bucky padded down the hall and into his room to grab a quick change of clothes; a pair of loose joggers and a tank top. Once he had the articles he made his way to the bathroom, tossing his clothes on the counter before turning the shower on. While waiting for the water to heat up Bucky stripped of his clothes and began pulling out his variety of piercings, setting them on the counter as well. Once finished, he strolled over and hopped into the shower, letting out a pleased sigh as the hot water hit his skin.

After sitting under the water a moment, he began to lather himself with soap, slowly massaging his tense muscles as he did; Bucky always got tense when he did things like showering, made him feel too vulnerable, senses nowhere near as sharp as they usually were. If something happened, he was completely unprepared, had nothing to defend himself with nor a way to stop anything. Bucky felt himself tense more at the thought and tried to change the subject in mind, tried to calm his nerves and tell himself it was okay; nothing would happen in the next 10 minutes. Stepping under the shower head, he let the water run down his skin once more, rinsing it clean. Once all the soap was washes off he moved to his hair, massaging the shampoo into his scalp, the feeling helping him steadily become calmer. Bucky tipped his head back, using his hands to help rinse out the shampoo.

Bucky sat there, letting the water run over his body as the room filled with steam, enjoying the warmth around him relax him. After about five minutes, Bucky decided that he had to get out at some point, though. Shutting off the water, Bucky stepped out and grabbed a towel. He quickly dried his body, careful to not get the fabric caught in the plating of the metal arm, before moving to do the same with his hair- well, as best he could do with the towel. Once he deemed himself dry enough, he tossed the towel into the hamper before grabbing his joggers and pulling them on. Next, Bucky plugged in the grey hair-dryer, turning it on and beginning to finish drying his hair, running his flesh hand through the dark strands as he did.

When it was done, Bucky gave his long hair a quick brushing to get the knots out before slipping on his shirt and padding back to his bedroom. He instantly flopped onto his bed, glancing around the dark room with tired eyes. Making sure his phone and wallet were still sat on his nightstand, he crawled under his red and black duvet, immediately letting himself succumb to sleep.

* * *

 

The brunet woke up the next morning, instantly slamming his hand on the snooze button of his alarm, making sure to use his flesh and blood one as to not break it. He sat up groggily. Throwing the sheets off his body, Bucky stood up, yawning tiredly as he did. He grabbed his phone off the nightstand before turning it on, noticing a message from Clint.

 **From Bird Boi: stop by some time today, Parker is gone so I'll be bored as Hell**  
**Sent at 8:47am**

Bucky thought a moment, checking the time- it was 10:15am- before replying to the text.

_To Bird Boi: yeah sure I'll stop by for a bit_

After sending the reply Bucky set his phone back down. He walked to his closet, almost tripping over random things [pants, shoes, etc.] as he went. He rummaged through the closet for a bit before pulling out a pair of black, ripped jeans. Setting them on the dresser, Bucky went back to digging inside the closet once more before deciding to grab a BMTH t-shirt along with a loose, black hoodie; normally he'd wear a leather jacket, but it had been pretty warm out lately.

After deciding on what to wear, Bucky quickly stripped out of his night clothes before pulling on his outfit for the day. He slipped on his combat boots and grabbed his phone and keys before walking to the bathroom to put all his piercings back in. Once that was done he made his way out the apartment, making sure to lock the door.

Bucky made his way through the hallway, earbuds in with the music blasting as he started down the first flight of stairs. He really hated living on the 4th floor sometimes; taking stairs always felt extremely slow, but he didn't trust the building's rickety, old elevator.

Bucky got about halfway down the third set when his phone went off. Pulling it from his front pocket, he turned it on to see an 'okay' from Clint. Unfortunately, checking his phone along with his music all the way up caused Bucky not to see the tiny blonde barreling down the steps behind him.

* * *

 

Steve rushed down the several flights of stairs, cursing himself in his mind.

 _'Fuck fuck fuck I'm late!!'_ The blond thought as he ran as fast as his thin legs could carry him, strength steadliy leaving them as he went. This wasn't the best plan because right as he rounded to go down the next flight of steps he suddenly ran into someone. The impact causing Steve to fall back and landing on his ass, head almost hitting the handrail as he went.

Steve groaned the second he hit the ground, pain shooting through his rear and hands, which he used to try and catch himself. He was about to apologize to whoever he just ran into, but was stopped before he even could.

"Oh, shit- are you okay?" The stranger asked as he turned, pulling his earbuds out, deep voice laced with sincerity.

Steve looked up and his breathing immediately hitched; not because this guy was huge compared to him [steve always picked fights despite his size], but because he was just... attractive. And Steve didn't think that about many guys.

The other man looked like he was about Steve's age, maybe in his early 20s. He had dark, shoulder length hair that was shaved on the right side, soft yet piercing blue eyes, his jaw and cheekbones strong and sharp alike, and piercings galore; Steve counted about 5 on just the one exposed ear. The man even had both a septum and dolphin bite piercing.

The brunet wore a loose band shirt [Steve had heard a few of their songs on the radio] with a black hoodie over top, a pair of ripped, black jeans, and a set of black combat boots that had spikes and chains going across it. Steve also took notice of the single black, fingerless leather glove that was on... _a metal hand???_

"Uhm, can ya talk or..?" The stranger questioned hesitantly, reminding Steve he had asked something.

The blond stopped his staring, casting his gaze back down as he mumbled out an answer, "oh, uhm- yeah, yeah 'm fine, don't worry."

Steve tried to push himself off the ground, but groaned as pain shot through him once more; the fall along with all the running he just did is really taking a toll on his bones right now.

The man took notice and quickly offered his hand to Steve. Reluctantly, the blond took it and hauled himself up along with the other's help.

"Again, sorry for being in the way." He apologized again as Steve stood up, adjusting his glasses.

"It's fine, really. I should'a been payin' attention." He replied, pulling out his phone. "Shit, gonna be so late." He sighed, shoving his phone back into his pocket.

There was no way he was gonna make it to the shop with the way his legs are shaking just from going down stairs.

His eyes drifted back to the man in front of him, an idea popping into his head.

"Uhm, hey, I know we don't know each other and all, but," he paused, taking a quick breathe before continuing, "d'ya think you could uh maybe give me a quick lift?" He asked the stranger nervously, anxiety and instant regret starting to build in the pit of his stomach.

Steve could see the other ponder the idea for a moment before replying with, "Depends, how ya feel about motorcycles and where ya need to go?"

 _'Of course he'd drive a motorcycle, just look at him-'_ Steve thought.

"That's fine, and uh it's this tattoo shop a few blocks away."

"Wait, is it the one on Smith Street?"

Steve gave a small nod in reply.

"Perfect timing, that's actually where I'm headed right now." He said, a deep chuckle following after the sentence sent a quick shiver up Steve's spine; he chose to ignore this fact, however, telling himself he was just cold.

"So ya wouldn't mind bringing me then?" Steve asked, giving him the chance to decline.

"Not at all, uhm..." he drifted off. "Sorry, didn't catch your name."

"Didn't throw it." Steve mumbled, taking note of the tiny smile tugging at the other's mouth- not that Steve was staring at his mouth or anything. "It's Steve," the smaller man replied as he put his hand out.

The brunet brought up his right hand, the flesh one, and gently shook Steve's as he replied. "Bucky."

"Bucky?" Steve questioned the odd name with a small laugh.

"Oh, shut it," Bucky chuckled, "it's a nickname."

The man- Bucky- turned and continued his way down the stairs, Steve trailing behind him.

"Nickname, huh? What's your real name then?" Steve asked as they walked.

"James, but I don't like usin' that." Bucky replied, brows furrowing as a look of what looked like sadness flickered across his face for a split second.

That confused Steve, but he decided not to look too deep into that.

"How'd ya get 'Bucky' from 'James'?" The blond questioned once more.

Bucky huffed out a laugh. "Someone's awful nosey," he mumbled.

"Oh, s-sorry I didn't mean to-"

"Relax, it was just a joke." Bucky said interrupted Steve's stammering, nudging him with his elbow.

"Jerk," Steve huffed as he sent a glare Bucky's way.

"Since I let you be nosey, how about you answer a quick question for me, yeah?" The brunet suddenly spoke as they finished the final set of steps.

"Okay, shoot. What d'ya want to know?"

Bucky turned to look at the smaller man before hesitantly asking, "how old are ya? Because I don't want to be seen with some kid and people get the wrong idea."

Steve thought it over for a second before saying, "if ya tell me your age, too, then sure."

Bucky gave a quick nod accompanied by a tiny grin as he said, "'kay, you first, though."

"19," Steve replied simply and waited for the other to answer.

"Well, I'm 20 so that works out fine," Bucky told him. "Now that that's settled we can head off."

Steve nodded and they both made their way out the building. The two walked through the parking lot, stopping when they reached a black motorcycle parked a dencent ways from the entrance. Noticing no helmets, Steve gave the other a confused look as he climbed onto the bike.

"Wait, where's your helmet?" Steve asked, obviously concerned over the lack of safety.

"Eh, we don't need those. I can drive just fine without it," the brunet replied. "Now, c'mon, ya said you're late, right?"

"It's a damn law," Steve huffed and rolled his eyes. He pulled his glasses off, putting them in their case and shoving it in his bag, before carefully climbing onto the back seat. Bucky fished out his keys and shoved it into the ignition, starting up the bike's engine.

"Might wanna hold on, punk." Bucky told Steve.

"Hold on to what?" Steve asked, genuinely not knowing.

Bucky rolled his eyes, smile forming on his lips, before responding with, "arms around me, unless ya wanna fall off."

A quiet "oh" was all Bucky heard before a pair of thin arms were slowly making their way around his torso, the tiny things barely able to wrap around his lean stomach. There was some strange, comforting feel about this; about Steve's arms around him like this, his small body now pressed against Bucky.

The older shook his head, ridding his mind of that thought, before pushing the up kick stand and driving off.

The minute they got on the road Bucky was gunning it, going what felt far over what the speed limit allowed. Steve's first time on a motorcycle ever and here he was, gripping onto Bucky like his life depended on it. The other to huff out a quiet laugh as he drove with Steve's tight hold around him.

It didn't take long for them to reach the shop with how fast Bucky was driving.

Bucky pulled into the car park, stopping and parking the motocycle in a space near the entrance. Pushing the kickstand down, he turned the engine off and pocketed his keys. The brunet sat there, patiently waiting for Steve to get off first. It took a few minutes, but eventually he was unwrapping his arms and hopping off. Bucky followed suit and got off as well. The two headed into the building, Steve saying a quiet 'thanks' as he put his glasses back on.

"Eh, no worries." Bucky responded as they walked in. "What's your cute lil ass going here for, anyways? Doesn't really seem like your kinda thing." He continued.

"What d'ya mean 'doesn't seem like my thing'?" Steve questioned, a scowl beginning to form. "What, since I'm not some big, bad dude I can't be into tattoos and shit?"

"No, I didn't mean it like that!" Bucky said with an apologetic tone. "Just, ya don't really seem like you're into all that."

Steve rolled his eyes, feeling that small twinge of annoyance simmer down. He knows it's something ridiculous to get mad over, but he couldn't help it; he hated people making assumptions of him based on his physical appearance.

Steve went to pull his phone out, but haulted when a voice spoke.

"Wow, look who finally showed up. And both at the same time, couldn't have worked out better."

They both turned and, sure enough, saw Clint grinning at them.

"Both?" The two questioned in unison, turning to look at each other then back at Clint.

"Yes, both." Clint replied as he walked up to them.

"Ya know this lil punk?" Bucky asked, pointing at Steve.

"I ain't a punk!" Steve shouted as he set a fiery glare on Bucky.

"Sure, ya ain't." Bucky said, mouth curling into a teasing grin. "How d'ya know him anyways, Barton." He asked, turning back to the taller blonde.

"Nat introduced us a few years back," Clint informed him, "also helps me with designs a lot, including that one you asked me about a few weeks back," he continued.

Bucky hummed, nodding his head, before turning back to Steve. "That why ya here then? Help out with designs?"

Steve nodded saying a smile, "yeah" in response.

"So, he's the guy getting that Howling Commandos one?" Steve asked as he looked at the other blond, who just gave a quiet nod.

Steve glanced back at Bucky as that fact set in. He had came by to show his sketches for the tattoo and the guy who's getting it is here. It made Steve scared to show them, the idea of Bucky hating his sketches leaving a feeling of anxiety within him.

"Anyways," Clint started, pulling Steve out of his thoughts, "I only have an hour so let's go talk about what ya got."

Steve gave a slow nod, pale hand clutching tight on the strap of his messenger bag.

"Can I come along, Barton?" Bucky asked curiously. "I mean it is _my_ tattoo."

"No, you totally can't come along to discuss your own tattoo." He replied with a sarcastic tone, rolling his eyes.

"Better drop the sarcasm before I _dropkick you_." The brunet grumbled, no real fire behind it.

All three strolled over and sat on the black sofa in the waiting area; Clint and Bucky on each end and Steve sat in the middle.

"'kay, so uhm I came up with a few different ideas," Steve started, opening his bag and pulling out a worn notebook, "but I don't really know if they're what ya wanted..." he trailed off as he pulled open the book, flipping a few pages, before setting it on his lap for the other two to see.

The page had three drastically different designs, all beautifully drawn. Bucky gawked at the page as he quietly mumbled, "Damn, you're really good."

Steve had to suppress the shudder that went up his spine when that deep, silky voice said the praise right next to his ear, breathe ghosting across his skin from leaning in so close to see the page.

He managed to hide it and stammer out a quick "thanks" as a reply.

Normally, Bucky would pick up on any movement someone made, almost instantly figuring out what the body language meant, but he was too engrossed in the drawings, looking over every little detail they held. His gaze lingered on a specific design, however. The one near the bottom left of the page; it had a howling wolf with wings on either side, two crossed swords in the center.

"These are great, Steve," Clint said before leaning back and looking over at the brunet, "you see one you like?" He asked curiously.

Bucky thought a moment, looking over all three designs, before pointing at the one he's been eying. "This one. I like this one." He said simply.

After hearing Bucky's answer, Steve let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. He always got so nervous when showing anything he drew, worried he'll be judged or shunned for it not being good enough. He was extremely critical of himself already, he didn't need everyone else to be, as well.

"Glad ya like it." Steve said, glancing up at Bucky who was still staring down at the book on Steve's lap, face showing mixed emotions; he had a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes that were full of something Steve couldn't read, his brows slightly furrowed.

Bucky felt Steve looking at him and flicked his eyes up, catching his gaze for a moment before the blond moved his eyes to look down at the page, porcelain skin dusting a fair shade of pink across his cheeks. His lips curved into a tiny smirk noticing the ever so subtle blush growing on the blond's face; he made a mental note to remember that.

Leaning back against the sofa, Bucky crained his neck to look at Clint.

"Ya said you're free for an hour or so, yeah?" He asked suddenly.

"Yeah," Clint replied, "why you asking?"

"How long ya think this would take to do?" Bucky questioned, pointing at the book still sat atop Steve's lap.

Clint was silent for a moment, looking over the sketch as he thought, before answering.

"I could probably get it done in time, and if it takes a little longer I could see if someone else could do my client while I finish up."

"Wait, ya actually wanna get it?" Steve asked, astonishment clear in his voice.

"'course I do," the older responded as he stood up, "it looks amazing and I'm here, anyways so."

Clint stood up as well, fixing his shirt, before saying, "Alright, I'm gonna go set up, meet me back there in a sec."

Bucky nodded before looking down at Steve who was shoving his notebook into his bag. Steve noticed the other still standing there and looked up from his spot on the sofa, innocent baby blues staring up at Bucky curiously as he muttered out a quiet "what?"

"Waiting for your punk ass to get up, Stevie." Bucky replied, the mischevious glint in his eye matching the smirk plastered on his face.

"Jeez, someone wants me gone real quick, huh?" Steve mumbled as he stood up and turned to walk towards the entrance.

He was stopped short, however, by a hand gripping the back of his shirt adnd yanking him back.

"Where the hell ya goin'?" Bucky asked as he stopped the blond. "Come keep me company while Barton inks up my skin," he added.

Steve pondered the idea over in his head. He didn't have anywhere to be and Sam wasn't going to be home for a while.

 _Fuck it, why not, right?_ He thought before giving Bucky a quick nod.

The brunet's grin grew. He slung an arm over Steve's shoulders, a chuckle escaping his lips, as the two walked off to meet their friend. Steve ducked his head to hide the smile forming on his face.


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short thing bc I HAD a whole chapter done, but it got deleted. So I tried my best to make something quick to post.

The two boys made their way to the back of the shop. Reaching the third door on the right, they stopped and turned, walking into the room.

"Steve's gonna keep me company while you work," Bucky informed Clint, who was currently putting together the tattoo gun.

"Okay, that's cool," He replied quietly, continuing to get everything ready.

Bucky made his way across the room and plopped down in the black chair. Staying in a sat up position, the brunet chucked off his hoodie before gripping the hem of his shirt and lifting it up over his head. Once it was off Bucky tossed the articles of clothing in a pile next to the seat and leaned back, getting comfortable.

Steve, who's head had been down since the other took off his hoodie, lifted his gaze to take a quick glance. The second his eyes landed on Bucky he froze in place, eyes wide.

Steve had noticed Bucky had some muscle to him instantly, but _seeing_ how well built he actually was-

The blonde let his eyes scan over all the sharp edges and overall nice build of his inked up torso. His gaze suddenly came to a hault, however, when he realized the fucking _metal arm_ Bucky had.

Steve didn't even realize the quiet 'holy shit' he muttered until Bucky glanced over at him, noticing where he was looking.

Oh, the look of discomfort that suddenly grew on his face killed Steve inside. The tenseness now evident in his shoudlers causing the blonde's lips to turn into a frown.

 

* * *

 

Around half an hour into the tattoo process what awkward tension that had been created drifted away, all three boys joking around as Clint worked carefully and precisely on his task.

Steve had even pulled out his sketchbook at some point and began to draw whatever little things came to mind, keeping up with the chatter from the other two

He was in the middle of shading the roses he had sketched around a skull when his attention was pulled away from the page, head snapping up to look at the others.

"Alright, let me get the cleaning solution and wrap," the older said as he stood up, giving his arms a quick stretch as he padded off to go rumage around in one of the cabinets.

"Whatcha drawing there, Stevie?"

The blonde's eyes snapped over to look at Bucky.

" _'Stevie'_?" He said, brow raised as a quiet chuckle left his mouth.

"Yep, Stevie, now lemme see the book," Bucky replied, making a grabby hand at Steve like a child.

The blond sat there silent for a moment, thinking it over.

He never really showed people his drawings- well aside from Clint, but those were for work purposes. Bucky, someone he barely knew, was asking to see whatever little doodles he had done to pass time.

Staring directly at Bucky completely straight faced, Steve closed the book and slowly slid it into his bag as he finally spoke, "What book? I ain't got a book."

The brunet's face formed into a scowl, clearly not amused. Steve's face was the complete opposite, his growing into cheeky smile as he looked at the brunet.

"Steve doesn't really show off his drawings, don't take it personal," Clint informed as he sat back with the cleaning solution.

He then began gently cleaning the freshly inked area of Bucky's chest, careful not to put too much pressure as the skin was quite sensitive now. After that was finished, Clint slowly wrapped some plastic film around Bucky's torso to keep the area clean. Steve was honestly shocked he didn't see the brunet even flinch throughout this process, not even any little noises of discomfort were heard. It looked painful in his opinion, the way his broad chest was a vibrant red with little prickles of blood scattered about, some areas even starting to gain a faint, purple hue; most likely some bruising beginning to form.  
  


When that was done, Bucky grabbed his shirt and slid it back on, which Steve was both grateful and annoyed about. Yeah, this is a guy he barely knew, but damnit he looked good and Steve wasn't going to just not appreciate it. At least Bucky left the hoodie off, giving Steve the ability to examine the metal limb on his left.

When everything was finished and the tattoo job was payed for, the two said a quick goodbye to their friend before making their way out the shop.

"So, you want me to take you home now or..?" Bucky questioned as they walked over to his parked motorbike.

"Or?" Steve said, beckoning for him to continue.

"Well," the brunet started, "I'm kinda hungry so if you want to we could go grab something to eat?" The ending came out as more of a question rather than an answer, voice a bit quieter than before, even sounding a bit nervous.

Steve let the idea bounce around his mind for a moment before answering, "Yeah, food sounds good. Where d'ya wanna go?"

"There's a diner not too far from here, that work?" Bucky questioned as he moved a hand to dig out the key from his pocket.

The smaller gave a silent nod, smile on his lips.

With that settled the two hopped on Bucky's bike and headed off.

Steve was considerate of the other's still sensitive skin and kept his grip lighter than before. Even moved his arms a little lower than before, the thin limbs now loosely wrapped around Bucky's stomach.  
  


They reached the diner and parked before making their way inside.

Bucky, mainly out pure of habit, opened and held the door open for Steve.

"Aw, such a gent," The blonde cooed teasingly as he walked inside, causing Bucky to roll his eyes as he let out a snort of laughter, a grin forming on his lips.

"Something wrong with that?" He asked as they strolled over and sat at the set of black barstools placed at the counter.

Giving a small shrug, Steve replied, "No, you just don't look like the 'gentleman' type."

"Oh? And why's that?" He raised a curious brow at the blonde.

"Seriously? You look like you'd break my neck, not hold a door for me." Steve responded, looking the other up and down as he did. The tiny glint of admiration in his eyes contrasting quite a bit from his answer.

The brunet let out a laugh at his reply, nose scrunching slightly as he did.

 _Okay, a guy who looks like_ ** _that_** _shouldn't have such a cute laugh-_ Steve thought, watching the other as his laughter died down.

"Yeah, guess I don't look like the sweetest guy."

 

* * *

 

What was supposed to be a quick snack soon turned into a two hour long lunch. The two had started talking and just lost track of time, though neither decided to point out how long it'd been, merely just enjoyed the company of the other.

This little lunch trip was actually quite nice, it gave them time to learn more about each other.

Steve ended up learning that Bucky's father had actually been in the military.

"He was part of the 'Howling Commandos'" Bucky told him. And it instantly clicked in Steve's mind that the tattoo was like a tribute to his father.

That fact hit Steve like a train, the realization of it filling him with a sense of honor at getting the opportunity to help create something so sentimental.

"Uhm, if you don't mind me asking," Steve began, "how did he pass?"

Casting his gaze down at the table, Bucky huffed out an awkward sounding laugh.

Steve cringed at the noise, immediately regretting he asked such a thing. God, what was he thinking?! He just met the guy and he's already asking about a dead parent.

"Y-you don't have to answer or anything y'know, I was- I was just kinda curious and-"

"Steve," Bucky said cutting off his rambling, "it's fine, seriously. I've just never really talked about him, is all." He informed the blonde, lips curling into a small smie.

Steve just gave a small nod accompanied by a sheepish smile, slightly embarrassed over the start of his rambling.

Bucky smiled once more before his gaze whipped back to the countertop, fingers tapping on the surface.

"He shot himself," the brunet muttered keeping his voice low, the reassuring smile he gave Steve turning into a pained one as he spoke, "guess the pressure of it all got to him or something..."

"I...I'm so sorry about that." Steve responded in a soft tone, hand moving to gently sit atop Bucky's, stopping it from the aggressive tapping it had began.

Bucky lifted his head to see the blonde looking at him obviously shocked, not really knowing what to say.

Bucky cringed at the realization of how blunt he was about such a thing. He usually sugarcoated things, but something as serious as this was excluded from that.

Niether spoke for a moment, silence filling the space between them, Steve still gripping the brunet's flesh hand.

"Sorry, I know how hard that can be to deal with," Steve finally spoke up, voice slightly hushed.

"My Pa passed when he served, too," the blonde added when Bucky's head tilted up, showing him a perplexed look.

His look of confusion quickly turned to one of something Steve couldn't quite place.

"Well, aren't we just a pair," the older muttered with dry laugh, leaning against the counter.

After that, they quickly left the topic of family; not like either had much to say anyhow. Instead, they moved to topics of interests.

Steve had learned that Bucky was very into mechanics, science, something he would've never guessed from looking at the man. The brunet also added in that he was quite good at photography.

Bucky on the other hand learned that, aside from art, Steve was very into cooking and reading, especially anything historical.  
  


Eventually, the two had to bring their conversation to an end.

Bucky was starting to get fidgety, anxious from being out around people for so long, and Steve needed to head home and do schoolwork.

Oh, that's another thing Bucky had learned about the blonde; he was in college as a visual arts major.

Pulling out some cash, Bucky paid for their lunch and the two headed out. Steve tried to argue about at least halfing their bill, but the brunet wouldn't listen, simply telling Steve to hush and accept he was paying. It was his idea to got eat anyways.

They walked out the diner, Steve grumbling to himself the entire way to Bucky's motorbike.

 

* * *

 

The drive back to the apartmsnt complex was fast, barely taking any time with the way Bucky sped down the road. Steve had yelled at the brunet every time he went over the limit, saying it was against the law. Bucky just laughed, grinning to himself as he continued driving.

Reaching the building, Bucky parked in his usual spot. They got off and made their way inside and began walking up the endless rows of steps.

Both boys were quite surprised to find out they lived on the same floor.

They had never even seen the other, but then again Bucky rarely left his apartment. Steve didn't really leave much either; he was always sick, couldn't really go anywhere when you're coughing up your lungs and barely able to stand.

They reached Steve's apartment and said a quick bye. Bucky then began walking down the hall towards his own, but stopped and made a beeline back to the other.

"Hey, so uh," he started, nervously scratching his neck as he spoke,"I was wondering if maybe I could get your number? Y'know so like if you need a ride anywhere again..."

Steve unlocked his door, putting the key back in his pocket before turning to the brunet, a tiny grin forming.

"Yeah, that's fine." He answered, pulling out his phone and placing it in Bucky's gloved hand.

He turned the phone in his grip, marveling at the American flag case it was in. Turning it back around, the taller quickly put in his number and name, only using his flesh hand to type, before handing the device back over to Steve.

Bucky then pulled out his own phone, unlocking it and passing it to the blonde. He took the dark grey device in his small hands, Bucky admiring them as he typed. Intrigued at how small they were, how thin and pale they looked; almost like a woman's.

Steve finished typing and handed Bucky's phone back, the brunet shoving it into his pocket. They said one more goodbye before Bucky continued off to his own apartment.


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really sorry I haven't updated, and that this is kinda short-

It was around 6pm. Bucky was sat in his bed reading a book Clint had brought him ages ago, rock music playing quietly in the background. He couldn't read, or really do anything, in complete silence so he always put on some music. He bobbed his head to the beat, even singing along when he took a quick break from the book.

This went on until he was about half way done with the book.

Bucky started getting fidgety from sitting still so long and decided that was enough for today. He closed the book, setting it on the growing pile near his bed as he stood up and stretched. The brunette grabbed his phone before walking out the room and towards the kitchen.

Now in the kitchen, Bucky dug inside the fridge looking for a snack, eventually deciding on some plums he had. Taking the whole bag, Bucky walked out and sat on the couch. He took a bite of one and pulled out his phone to shoot Clint a message.

_To BirdBoi: wanna hang out? I'm bored as hell_

**From BirdBoi: can't, Scott asked me to help him pack**

Shit, that's right. Scott was moving into a place with his girlfriend, Hope. Bucky had met her a few times and she seemed nice.

He texted back a quick reply before going to message Nat. She was also busy, sadly.

Bucky scrolled through the other contacts, sighing. There were very few people he actually felt comfortable enough to invite over, but they all just happen to be busy when he's in the mood for people.

His eyes suddenly stopped on Steve's contact. Should he try asking him? It's been a few days since they first talked, but would it be too soon? What if it weirded him out?

His finger hovering over the screen eventually clicked to pull up their chat. They had messaged a bit the last few nights, nothing too important, though.

Bucky swears he typed out and deleted the message 10 times before finally sending one.

_To Steve: hey are you busy?_

Instant regret hit him after it sent. There was no way Steve would hang out with him. He probably had far better things to do, better people he could meet with.

Bucky was about to backtrack and tell him nevermind, but a reply popped up.

**From Steve: just making a quick store run rn**  
**From Steve: what's up?**

_To Steve: i was just gonna ask if you maybe wanted to come hang out_

Ugh, really? That's the best you can do, Barnes?!

**__From Steve: yeah sure! I'll head over when I'm done_ _ **

Bucky's lips curved into a smile after reading the reply. It left almost instantly, however, when he glanced around the room.

His place was a _mes_ s.

The brunette jumped up and started cleaning; picked up the random clothes strung around the place, washed the dishes in the sink, folded the blanket normally thrown on the couch, etc. Normally he wouldn't put this much care into tidying up since his friends knew how he was.

But this was someone different. This was _Stev_ e.

And Bucky didn't need him thinking he was a total disaster right from the start.

A knock on the door caught Bucky's attention as he was doing a look over of his place.

He walked over to the door, trying to calm his nerves before he opened it to reveal the small, blue eyed dork.

"Hey," Steve greeted, looking up at Bucky with a small grin, hands wrapped around his bag's shoulder strap.

Bucky said a quick 'hi' back with a nervous smile, moving to let him in.

He watched anxiously as Steve glanced around his living room before turning to look back at him.

"Your place looks nice," the blonde said, causing a rush of relief to wash over Bucky.

* * *

An hour or so had passed and the two somehow ended up watching (insert disney film), Steve sat on the right side of the couch and Bucky on the left. The movie had been Steve's choice; he'd noticed the stack of films next to the TV and asked if they could watch one.

_"I can't believe you have Disney movies,"_ Steve had said, adding that Bucky _didn't seem like the type to like them_ when the brunette asked why.

At some point during the movie, though, Steve had picked up the sketchbook he brought along and began sketching the brunette, trying to keep his glances as discrete as possible.

Steve didn't know why he wanted to draw Bucky, just knows he really wanted to. The blonde feels a bit of guilt doing it without permission, but Steve figured he'd say no to the idea.

"What're you doing?" Steve was working on the details of Bucky's folded arms when the brunette suddenly spoke up, causing him to jump and throw his book.

"Shit, sorry," Bucky apologized, "didn't think you'd get scared that easy."

"U-uhm it's fine," Steve replied, getting up to grab thr sketchbook.

"Can I see it, though?"

The blonde held the now closed book close to him, "I don't really show people..."

Bucky opened his mouth, but quickly shut it, giving a small nod instead.

Steve sat himself back on the couch, tucking his book away in his bag.

Like Hell he was going to show a drawing of Bucky _to Bucky_.

The blonde resisted the urge to continue and left the book alone. He tried to focus on the film, but Bucky's constant glances was making that impossible.

What if he'd seen the drawing and just asked to be sure? What if he thought Steve was weird? Oh god, he probably hates him-

Wait, why was Steve getting so worried? Since when did he care this much about what other's thought?

That thought was quickly interrupted when Steve's attention moved to the brunette as he stood, stretching slightly.

"I'm getting a drink, you want anything?" Bucky asked as he walked towards the kitchen.

"Just some water would be fine," Steve replied softly, still trying to calm his mind.

A minute later Bucky returned with a water bottle and some energy drink.

Sitting down, he handed the water to Steve before popping the tab of his canned drink and taking a quick chug.

"Those aren't good for you, ya know," the blonde mumbled before taking a sip of the water he'd been given.

"I'm not dead yet, am I?" Bucky mumbled before taking another sip.

"Enough of 'em and you will be," the blonde replied, lips forming into a small pout.

Bucky's eyes flicked between Steve and the can for a solid 30 seconds before shrugging and chugging the entire can.

The brunette set the can down as he stood up and walked back to the kitchen, coming back with _another fucking energy drink_.

Steve glared at him as he walked back to sit down.

When he saw the other go to open it he leaped over, grabbing it from him.

"You don't need two in such a short amount of time!"

Bucky's look of shock soon turned into a playful glare as he tried to grab the can from him.

Steve moved it out of his reach, even deciding to jump up and run away with it when Bucky tried again.

* * *

"Bucky, it's _jus_ t a drink! Get up!" Steve groaned, looking down at the brunette who was currently staring at the spilt drink on the floor like someone who just broke their most prized possession.

"Let me grieve this loss in peace, Steve!!" Bucky shouted back dramatically.

Steve sighed, trying to hold back a small laugh, "If I buy a new one will you stop being so dramatic?"

Bucky instantly hopped up, neutral expression back on his face, "Yeah, sounds good."

"Are you serious? That's all I had to- yOU WERE DOING THIS FOR FIVE MINUTES AND THAT'S ALL IT TOOK?!"

Bucky couldn't hold back the laugh that came out at the sight of Steve's annoyed expression.

"What's so funny?!" Steve asked, glaring at him.

"Nothin', you just look cute angry," Bucky said between quieting laughter.

Steve's face suddenly went redder for a completely different reason, pout forming on his lips.

"I ain't cute," he mumbled, crossing his arms and trying his best to keep a glare.

"Sure ya ain't," Bucky replied with an eye roll, "Anyways, let's go get that drink, you wasted my last one."


End file.
